Edie Sedgwick + Man Man

Edie Sedgwick + Man Man


Edie Sedgwick

”The first prerogative of an artist in any medium is to make a fool of himself,” wrote influential critic Pauline Kael. After seeing this show, I can solemnly swear: Justin Moyer is a true artist. Moyer is best known for his part in art-punk trio El Guapo. But when he’s done playing drums along to a finicky mix of abstract accordion and synthesizer riffs, he moonlights as something entirely different. That’s right; Justin Moyer does drag. Under the name Edie Sedgwick, Moyer appeared in sparkling silver, platform heels and glittery mini-dress before a surprised, sparse audience of reserved indie-rock types. Coated in makeup, he sashayed around the stage and parried the heckler’s comments with the usual double entendres that kept Dame Edna up to his falsies in dough. But Edie Sedgwick is more than just some tired, generic drag act; this is a drag act for hipsters. So naturally the backing tracks that Moyer sings along to are electroclash, streaming straight from his iPod. These are no lip-synced Madonna covers; these are clever rhymes about celebrities. In fact, the entire persona of Edie Sedgwick is a commentary, a critique even, of our celebrity-obsessed culture. Of course, putting it that way sounds so boring. Edie Sedgwick is anything but. Right off the bat, Moyer lays his priorities on the line. He claims that he isn’t going to talk about politics, but then he introduces a song about the man who was just reelected… Martin Sheen. Each song is about a particular celebrity — Sigourney Weaver and her implied lesbian relationship in Aliens Two, for example — but if you’re after catty nastiness, stick to Joan Rivers. Edie Sedgwick loves celebrities one and all; the meanest it gets is when Moyer calls Matt Damon “dog faced” in one of ten haikus about the cast of “Ocean’s Twelve”. The whole thing might sound like a trifling bit of sideshow — and it certainly is — but the quality of the songs is remarkable. How could a song about Arnold Schwarzenegger be so catchy? Edie Sedgwick’s new album, the aptly titled Her Love is Real… But She is Not, comes out in March, and I can’t help but hope that one of these paeans for the likes of Robert Downey Jr.’s singing career or Julia Roberts’ new babies finds its way into a few dj sets this summer. Though Edie Sedgwick and other artists — Peaches or Beans, for example — might be willing to show up on stage armed only with a prerecorded backing track, it’s clear that rock audiences aren’t quite prepared to accept it. Moyer may have plenty of swivel in his hips, but there remains something unshakably static about the solo karaoke show. The Postal Service kept a drumkit on stage that, though infrequently used, acted as a visual anchor, giving the crowd something they were used to even as the beats slipped through the cables of Jimmy Tamborello’s laptop. The point of a rock concert, and what differentiates it entirely from a dj set in a club, is the visual spectacle of live performance. Moyer’s spangles and the bulge in his pantyhose can’t do the job when the crowd wants a stage full of musicians toiling away at their instruments. That’s where Man Man comes in. Dressed all in white, the quartet crowded the stage with enough instruments to keep the Polyphonic Spree on their toes. They pack in everything: keyboards, toy accordion, xylophones, melodica, French horn, trumpet, clarinet, and of course countless pieces of percussion. This array all seems too familiar; the melodica is probably the most overused novelty instrument in the past five years (you can thank Damon Albarn and Clinic for that one). Three of the band’s members switch between these different instruments but never really manage anything all that new with them. Through the entire set, I felt as if I was listening to a Juilliard School group play variations on a theme from “Peaches en Regalia”. Lead singer Honus Honus is the pimply kid brother of Captain Beefheart. and the high-pitched backing vocals recall Zappa’s faux doo-wop on Cruisin’ with Ruben and the Jets. But I love Zappa. And though Man Man may seem derivative at times, in my opinion there aren’t enough freak orchestras that have followed in his footsteps, playing spirited romps perfect for an underground Mardi Gras. Rock ‘n’ roll has a shorter half-life than nitric oxide, and I’m as guilty as any other listener of hearing similarities as just plain rip-offs. Fans of Need New Body, Tom Waits, Zappa, and Beefheart will without a doubt like Man Man, no matter how much they might protest. Most importantly, however, people should come for the drummer. Tiberius Lyn is one of the most technically proficient indie-rock drummers, and certainly the biggest showoff, that I’ve seen in a while. He keeps an almost constant, drill-like rhythm without falling into the bland militaristic rolls that plague most math-rock drummers playing (I’m looking at you, Hella). Lyn carries each song, mapping out a throughline even when a song twists and turns into a half-dozen tempos and styles. He doesn’t just create beats, he creates melodies, all at a frenetic pace. Perhaps it was just by chance, but Lyn’s kit took centerstage at this show, and his playing was indisputably the band’s greatest asset. I don’t want to give him ideas, but if he ever tried playing in drag, his power would be unstoppable.